In a high room

in a weary mind

it fights its way up 

through the knowing brain,

which lies unguarded.

It slips out, a

glowing sphere of light, 

into a dark room

until it finds a window and darts

high over the street, 

which is lit with 

the soft yellow glow

of city midnight.

Little know the sporadic passerby,

the crawling cars

the sleepless men

that high above

in the fog of golden red

the little light

advances through the rain-

cleared air;

Up

past the visor of human cause,

to that glowing path in the sky

to join its brothers

in the river of dreams.